


Auf Wiedersehen

by quellfrost (tascioni)



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Fashion & Couture, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:23:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tascioni/pseuds/quellfrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This season on Project Runway...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Auf Wiedersehen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acquiescence_ (malawi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/malawi/gifts).



> for the lovely acquiescence_ who bought me on the help_yca auction! :D she requested "something dealing with dressing" and I somehow took that to mean PROJECT RUNWAY AU! *___* I, uh, yeah.

Harvey has a very assured sense of self. For instance, he’s very sure he’s a fantastic lay; he’s hands down the best designer here; and this competition is a waste of his time, not because it’s not great experience (because it is) or because it’s great exposure (because it is), but because no one stands a chance (because they don’t) and that’s hardly fair (for everyone else). Harvey likes to play fair. It’s not very fun otherwise.

They’re supposed to be paired up with their models today, but as these things are wont to go, it’s been hours and no one has any idea what’s going on. So far, all they’ve really done is stand around, witness a couple of breakdowns, and eat a cracker or two. (Harvey eats a whole package because, what the hell, he’s hungry and he’s not the one who has to fit into the size zero.)

The cameramen look understandably annoyed, hefting their large, weighty cameras from shoulder to shoulder, looking surlier and more menacing with each tick of the clock. Heidi is off somewhere yelling at people in what sounds less like German and more like heavily accented Spanish, and Tim Gunn is standing to the side with a frown.

“Well,” says Tim. “This doesn’t work at all.”

Harvey wishes he’d had the foresight to bring some liquor.

Finally, at some digusting time way past when they were supposed to start shooting, the models trail in looking fresh as daisies and beaming brightly at everyone in the room. As it turns out, someone-who-will-not-be-named-but-who-probably-will-have-no-further-involvement-with-the-show told the models and their driver that they could have the day off.

“It’s a shame they forget to tell the rest of us,” gripes one of the bone-thin competitors that Harvey’s fairly certain will be gone by the end of the week. Everyone ignores him in favor of pretending to listen to Tim who’s got out a black hat and explaining how this process works to four different cameras.

“Now, let’s see who our first pair is!” Tim says jovially, pulling two names out of a hat. “We’ve got...Gregory Poullack and Rachel Zane!”

They all clap politely, and Harvey thinks _Thank God_ , because the girl’s eyes are too wide and her forehead is a total Shakespearean tragicomedy.

Jessica Pearson (who Harvey considers his worthiest match so far) gets paired with a brunette who’s legs go on forever, and finally, Harvey gets a girl named Donna, who isn’t tall at all, but definitely has a fierce walk. She strides over, her bright red hair bouncing loftily, and Harvey thinks they’ll get along great.

*

Their first challenge is completely outrageous. They have one 16-hour day to make an outfit out of sewing supplies. Tim smiles brightly at them and says instead of going to the fabric store, they’ll be taking a trip to a craft warehouse.

Harvey has already decided that he’ll be making a dress out of ribbons, lace and needles, so it only takes him a few minutes before he’s got his purchases and is tapping his foot impatiently as the rest of the designers run around the warehouse like chickens without heads.

Louis sidles up to him then, and Harvey sighs inwardly. Harvey is loathe to admit that Louis’ sketch actually seems decent, but Louis is a downright creep in the most literal sense so Harvey’s pretty sure he’s going to lose on principle.

“Look at that chaos,” he sniffs haughtily. “If they can’t even find a needle in a haystack of needles, they don’t have a chance.”

Even though he agrees, Harvey says, “Maybe they’re looking for a pincushion.” and smirks when Louis regards him with a look of disdain.

“Que gane el mejor,” says Louis pointedly.

Harvey looks at him. “Quis tecum sit,” he says, and Louis stalks off.

“What!” Harvey calls after him, grinning. “I thought we were trying to see who's the more pretentious!”  


*

It’s a disaster, really, because this is a reality show, and if there aren’t disasters happening of their own accord, the producers make one happen. All of their bags get switched around when they return from lunch, and no one can tell who’s things belong to who. Madness naturally ensues, and Harvey spends--wastes--a good half hour arguing with Frederic over the shade of pink of a yard of ribbon because Harvey is perfectly capable of telling Rose Pink from Magenta, thank you very much, but Frederic keeps insisting that Harvey’s ribbons must be the bright monstrosity, and Harvey finally snaps and yells, “You’re the one who’s genetically predisposed to being colorblind, not me!”

Frederic’s jaw drops. “I told you that in confidence!” he hisses loudly as the cameras immediately swoop in on them. He throws the Rose Pink ribbons at Harvey’s face and storms off to be waylaid by the producers and sent off for a close-up by the interview stand (which is really just a sheet of white butcher paper draped over what should be the Piperlime.com wall, but, needs must).

Harvey could seriously care less. He gathers up his ribbons and gets to work, quickly sidestepping a blossoming argument between Tori and Jessica over a few books of goldleaf. Later, Donna spends fifteen minutes complaining that the color completely clashes with the color of her hair and what was Harvey thinking, making a redhead wear pink. “Shouldn’t you know this?” she says scornfully, and Harvey yells at her to go to hair and make-up already.

“Tell them to deal with it,” he snaps. “As it’s their job.”

“No need to get all high and mighty,” she says. “Hair and make-up can make or break you.”

“I’m never working with you again,” says Harvey.

She smirks at him. “Like I want to look like a tramp for the rest of this show,” she says and walks away.

Harvey stares after her and thinks he might be a little bit in love.

*

The judges are head over heels for him, naturally. They fawn over Donna’s neatly slicked back hair that just go perfectly with the movement of the dress.

“Just look at how it flows,” says Michael.

“And the pink is just lovely,” says Nina.

“I want to wear it,” declares Heidi, and the producers yell for that to be cut out.

“You can’t show bias, Heidi,” they tell her and she tells them to fuck off.

“It’s a beautiful dress,” she says. “And I am a beautiful person!”

*

He wins the challenge. He and Donna share a high-five.

A girl who’d just finished fashion school goes home. She cries a lot, and other people cry with her, even though Harvey can’t fathom why, seeing as they all barely know each other.

“I’m sorry to see her go,” Harvey says to a camera, even though he’s never even talked to her before. He stares at the lens blankly until one of the producers gets impatient and says, “Tell us what she was like!”

Harvey raises an eyebrow. “She was sweet,” he says flatly. “She’s gone, and I’m still here, so thank God for small mercies?”

*

Somewhere along the line in Challenge #6, Donna doesn’t come back. Instead, there’s a boy in her place and Heidi saying, “I’m sorry, Harvey. Donna’s signed with Elite Models, and they’ve got her booked for the next few months, but we aren’t leaving you without a model, don’t worry!”

She introduces him as Mike, and all Harvey can think to say is, “What.”

“Hi,” says Mike.

“I made a dress,” Harvey says.

“Uh,” says Mike, blinking twice. “I shaved?”

Harvey looks down. Mike is wearing tan-colored khakis and Crocs (and Harvey feels like just for that, they’re going to be sent home), but he, indeed, hair-free.

“I fit in a women’s 4,” Mike offers.

“Donna’s a 2,” replies Harvey. “And your legs are hideous.”

Mike looks down at them. “Well,” he says. “Good thing this isn’t Top Model, right?”

Harvey stares at him.

“Anyway,” says Mike. “We have what, two hours? Can you piece together a jacket for the dress? My shoulders are too broad to go strapless.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” says Harvey. “Why don’t you go and lose two or three inches?”

Mike, to Harvey’s dismay, laughs.

*

They don’t win, but they don’t get sent home either. The judges commend him for his adaptability, but what adaptability they’re referring to, Harvey has no idea because there was no adapting involved at all, unless you count Mike’s wig and Harvey letting out two inches in the waist.

Also, because Harvey has a death wish and because Donna has ruined him for female models forever, he chooses Mike to be his model again, and Mike beams at him.

*

The next challenge is the officewear challenge, and if this were any other time, Harvey would wonder if maybe there was such a thing as fate. As it is, there is such a thing as reality show business and ratings-obsessed production companies.

“So,” says Mike, leaning against the table because the models are supposed to be collaborating with the designers for this round. “Are we making a suit?”

Harvey doesn’t look up from his sketchbook. “You have a better idea?”

Mike holds up his hands in surrender. “No, no. I’m just saying, if Donna were here instead of me, you’d probably have made something more avant-garde.”

“It’s officewear,” Harvey says, picking out a slate grey pencil. “What ‘avant-garde’ are you talking about? Would you like me to make you a stapler hat?”

Mike makes a face.

*

“I’m not wearing that,” Mike says, folding his arms across his chest.

“It’s time to nut up or shut up, pretty boy, so if you want to stay in this competition, you’ll put it on.”

Mike scowls at him. “You’re not allowed to quote Zombieland,” he says, ducking away when Harvey tries to put the fedora on his head. “Not when you’re trying to make me wear that--that _thing_.”

Harvey smirks and looks down, flipping the hat around in his hands. He’d made out of a pad of legal paper. It probably won’t hold up very long, but Harvey doesn’t need it, too; he just needs it to hold up for the next two hours.

“You wanted avant-garde,” he says, tossing the fedora to Mike who catches it, frowning.

“I meant like a high collar or something, Jesus, not this,” he grouses but puts the hat on all the same.

“You do that,” Harvey says. “When you’re the designer.”

“We’re supposed to be a team,” Mike complains, even as he strips out of his t-shirt and jeans and pulls on the dress shirt, yellow-pinstriped waistcoat and grey wool pants. “Where is the communication? The cooperation? The commemoration? Why aren’t you respecting the three C’s?”

“Because they’re useless,” Harvey replies smoothly, bending down to straighten out the inseam. “And commemorating is for after we win.”

Mike grins at him, open and wide.

“What?” says Harvey suspiciously.

“After we win,” Mike echoes. “It does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Harvey raises an eyebrow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, but Mike doesn’t stop grinning until it’s time to get on the runway.

*

They win the challenge, and Jessica wins the next two, and suddenly, it’s just the three of them, getting ready to fly home and prepare for the Bryant Park finale show.

They don’t officially get to say good-bye to their models, everyone goes out for one last dinner together. (Louis decides to make a speech halfway through dessert, and it’s about 95% totally awkward and 5% awkwardly endearing.) At the end of the night, when they’re waiting for cabs to take them to their respective hotels, the models wish them all good luck.

“See you later, man,” says Mike, holding out a hand.

Harvey looks at it and shakes his head before holding up a fist.

Mike grins and bumps it with his own.

*

In a caffeine-induced mania, Harvey finishes his collection by week two of the allotted twelve. He spends most of week three split between pacing up and down his Studio City apartment or running laps around Griffith Park.

(He trashes everything, then regrets it and spends a good part of week four salvaging his pieces.)

Mike texts him sometime between the beginning of week six and Tim Gunn’s housecall. _the first rule of fashion is you have to look weird. t-minus 40 days! stitch like the wind, bullseye!_

Harvey doesn’t reply. Instead, he seriously considers burning everything.

*

He takes Tim out to the Hollywood sign, mostly because he wants to see Tim in shorts and sneakers.

“Well,” huffs Tim once they’ve hiked as far as they can. “Is this the inspiration for your collection?”

Harvey looks around. The grass around them is yellowed and dry and is probably more weeds than actual grass. It hasn’t rained in a while so the smog marring the skyline is dusty and unrepentant.

They walk around the fence for a bit before Harvey finally says, “Yeah, there’s inspiration.” and Tim smiles at him like he knows just what Harvey means.

*

Tim leaves him with very little criticism. “I trust you to make it work,” he says wisely, hands on Harvey’s shoulders, while a camera zooms in on his face.

“I will,” says Harvey, even though he hasn’t a clue what to do. Tim nods at him.

*

As Fashion Week draws nearer, Mike apparently decides to appoint himself as Harvey’s guru. He sends Harvey weekly texts that turn bi-weekly that turn daily. He’s quoted everything from The African Queen ( _ain’t nothing a man can’t do if he believes in himself._ ) to Inception ( _you musn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger._ which, honestly, is just insulting).

The night before his flight, Harvey gets a picture message. It’s an image of Mike’s face with his fist raised to the camera. _if this is your first night_ , reads the caption. _you have to fight_.

Because he feels that he should at least give the kid credits for effort, Harvey sighs and texts back, for the very first time since the messages have started. _In context,_ Harvey writes. _That doesn’t even make any sense._

The reply is immediate.

 _fashion is never makes sense. the first rule of fashion is you have to look weird. well i mean, you want to appeal to the masses but people are different and that’s why people are beautiful, and a thing of beauty is a joy forever._

Harvey vaguely wonders if Mike isn’t really a robot with Netflix installed into his hard drive. It shouldn’t be possible for someone to remember all those quotes. Harvey’s great with words, but even he had to google some of Mike’s more ambiguous references.

 _Yeah, well,_ Harvey types. _fuck everyone else. You’re the only one who has to look good, and inside of you, there’s a fashion model just waiting to throw up._

Harvey turns off his phone and gets ready for bed. (It’s a good thing, too, because when he wakes up at 4:00 am and staggers out the door to the car that will take to him LAX, his inbox is filled with 10 new messages from Mike.

 _i think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me_

 _i’m sure that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me_

 _are you drunk?_

 _does this mean we’re friends?_

 _hello?_

 _talk to me goose_

 _Bueller?_

 _jesus how many of these have i sent? let’s say i’m drunk_

 _good luck by the way_

 _i’m adding you facebook_

Harvey sighs and turns off his phone again.)

*

“I’m sorry, Jessica,” Heidi says, and Jessica stiffens, mouth set in a hard line. The tension in the makeshift elimination room is making Harvey’s palms sweat, and Louis is sweating visibily. “But you’re the winner of Project Runway.”

The silence is deafening, and Harvey opens his mouth to offer his condolences before Heidi’s words properly register. Then he simply holds out his hand, grinning genuinely and says, “Congratulations, you deserve it.”

Louis offers similar congratulations with an equal amount of sincerity, and Jessica accepts it graciously.

As they leave the “runway,” their models are waiting for them behind the screen, and all three of them look at them expectantly, eyes flicking from one designer to the next impatiently.

“Jessica won,” Harvey says amiably, and her model, Katie, lets out a scream of delight before rushing over and pulling Jessica into a tight hug.

Norma walks over to Louis and gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and Louis’ mouth twitches in a would-be smile.

Mike is watching him cautiously, and for some reason, Harvey finds himself saying, “She deserved it.”

Mike’s stare turns curious then. “So what are you going to do now?” he asks, and Harvey shrugs. Before he can say anything, however, Jessica clears her throat.

“I just want to say it’s been a pleasure working with all of you,” she says, and Harvey can tell she really means it, so he smiles. “And I’ve seen your talent and your skill, and for the record, I greatly admire you, so I just want to put this out there: I would love to be able to work with both of you.”

“Are you asking for a collaboration?” Louis inquires, a little stiffly.

“Mm,” says Jessica. “Not necessarily a collaboration. More of a joint line.”

“I’m in,” Harvey says, because he knows that whatever Jessica decides to do with them, it will be amazing. “As long as I--we can keep using our models.”

Mike coughs beside him, and Harvey resolutely does not look at him.

Louis looks at Norma and says, “I’m in.”

“And,” Harvey adds, because he’s not going to let Mike have this go to his head (his texting plan would never survive). “I’m getting Donna back.”

Jessica looks at him with a raised eyebrow, amused. “As long as you figure that out,” she says, and Harvey allows himself to grin.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ve got it under control.”

*

(“Admit it,” Mike says, when they’re standing outside the hotel, and it’s half-past 3 in the morning. Mike’s breath is visible as he talks. “I’m your muse.”

“I don’t believe in muses,” Harvey says shortly, although that apparently does nothing to deter Mike.

“Let me guess,” he says. “You also don’t believe in destiny or fate or love at first sight.”

“I make my own destiny,” says Harvey. “Therefore, I determine my own fate. You can’t fall in love at first sight; it’s just lust.”

After a pause in which Harvey severely hopes that that’s the end of that, and maybe he’ll be able to go inside and actually sleep for the first time in a week, but then Mike says, “I can’t tell if you’re cynical or just arrogant.”

Harvey smirks. “Jealous?”

“No,” Mike ~~lies~~ says and kisses him.)

 

 

P.S. HAVE A DELETED SCENE:

They don’t win. Harvey’s not exactly smarting because Jessica’s pantsuit was pretty much flawless, but it is a bit of a shock when Louis decides to pick Mike as his model, and Harvey ends up with Norma.

“Uh,” he hears Mike say.

“I know you’re used to Harvey and his barbaric intimidation tactics,” says Louis. “So I just thought I’d show you the other side of the coin. You see, there’s a whole other world out there, and you deserve to see it. You’re welcome.”

“Right,” says Mike. “Sure.” and all but flees the room.

Norma merely blinks at him and says softly, “I’m 33-23-34,” and Harvey nods.


End file.
